


sciamachy

by EARTHT0M4RS



Series: ranboo brainrot [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Cuddling, Derealization, Enderman Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Human Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Panic Attacks, Prison Warden Sam | Awesamdude (Video Blogging RPF), gasp there is ok poggers, is there a tag for that, its platonic tho obviously, not human thats for sure, ranboo is a minor ya weirdos, smh my head, we dont rlly know what dream is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29236662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EARTHT0M4RS/pseuds/EARTHT0M4RS
Summary: sciamachy[sīˈaməkē](n) - argument or conflict with an imaginary opponent:)
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Ranboo & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: ranboo brainrot [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2146839
Comments: 5
Kudos: 108





	sciamachy

**Author's Note:**

> pls pay attention to the tags!! if youre easily triggered by any of the topics, i wouldnt recommend reading this. if you choose to do so, please be cautious.

"I'll need you to stand right here, please. Remain facing forwards at all times."

The warden makes a brief gesture towards the blackstone platform, just in front of the cascading, seemingly endless flow of lava that formed a barrier between their current location and the main cell. 

He obeys, trudging forward uncertainly like he was trying to fill someone else's footsteps. Sparks emerged from the magma falls, spitting out and hissing at the floor's cold touch. Silence wrapped around both the warden and the visitor. The distant humming of machinery was akin to the incoherent buzzing in his ears, which caused his head to feel a little light and fuzzy. He thought nothing of this, though, and brushed it off as a mere side effect of the nerves.

"Sam?" he says carefully, trying to strike up conversation in means of easing the thickening tension that accompanied the silence.

"Hmm?" 

"You said he hadn't - um, Dream hadn't gotten any visitors in two weeks, up until now, right?"

Sam confirmed his inquires with a nod of his head.

"Is it - is it okay if I ask why? I mean - you - you don't have to tell me, I - I just, um - " He seems to trip over his own words, struggling to catch himself. "I just - I sort of want to know the reason, if there is one."

The warden let out a slow, prolonged sigh, noticeably shifting his weight to the opposite foot. Dark eyes, partially concealed by a mask, darted around the room.

"He - well, I - I don't know where to start." Sam admitted, muttering profanities under his breath. 

"Take your time."

"Dream has - he's always been a bit of a restless soul - always on the move, can't stay still. But - well - you can't exactly... run around _in there -_ you can hardly even pace, let alone anything else," he rambled. "One night, when I was giving him his food, he - uh, he asked me something."

He blinked slowly, processing these words. "What was it?"

"He asked me if he could stretch his legs, walk around the prison - with supervision, obviously - even just for a minute. I - I feel so fucking _stupid_ now, for even considering it for more than a second, because the moment Dream realized I wasn't focusing on him, he - he tried - "

Sam let out a shaking breath, bringing a slightly trembling hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose; he seemed to be internally cursing himself. 

"He tried to slip past me."

The words came tumbling out of the warden's mouth so quickly that they nearly morphed into an incoherent jumble. 

"I mean - he - he didn't _succeed,_ of course," Sam continued on with his tirade, his hand now falling limp at his side, "but he got farther than he should have been able to. I declined all visitors up until now, so I could install more security. The problem with Dream is that he's _smart -_ he knows the intricacies of almost every person on this server; he took the time to watch them all, to get inside their heads and assess every little thing about them. But they're not his guards - they're not his _captor._ He didn't bother figuring out much about us because he was under the impression that we were _on his side,_ that we were his allies! If he is somehow able to exploit even _one_ weakness of mine, that - that's not good, at all, and I - I just - god, I'm sorry - you're a kid; I shouldn't be unloading all of this on you. Just - just face forward, please. The lava should finish dropping any minute now."

He complied, nodding mutely; truthfully, he hadn't even been aware that he'd turn around, because he'd been listening so attentively. 

Catching a brief glimpse of the warden's vulnerable side felt extremely strange to him; Sam was headstrong, quite stubborn (in the most lighthearted way possible, that is), and a great warrior, therefore seeing him look so helpless and distressed, even just for a second, was undoubtedly abnormal. 

"Hey, kid?"

He peers over his shoulder, back at the warden.

"You don't have to worry," Sam says quietly, tentatively, like he's afraid of saying something wrong.

"I - I'm not worrying," he lies, naturally hoping his voice wouldn't give him away.

Sam shakes his head, "you are. I can tell. You don't have to worry," he repeats, echoing his previous statement like some sort of broken record-player.

"What if he tries to escape again?" he asks carefully.

The warden chuckles darkly, "oh, the chances of that are slim. He knows the punishments he'll get if he tries anything."

He knows better than to doubt Sam's words, but he can't help but feel uneasy. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. Do you trust me, kid?"

He casts a glance over to the main cell, which was now visible beyond the lava, chewing nervously on his bottom lip.

"I do," he says, though he can hardly hear himself over the loud thrumming of his heart beating in his ears. "I trust you," he confirms, louder this time.

"Good," Sam nods, "you'll be alright."

The brief conversation comes to an end. He takes it as a sign to face forward once more. By now, the lava has nearly fallen completely, and based on the sound of Sam's footsteps, he moved to a different spot somewhere behind him. He can faintly make out the cell's inhabitant; Dream was nearly consumed by the shadows in the far corner, knees drawn to his chest and his face somewhat hidden by them.

"Alright," Sam speaks up once more, "I'm going to send the bridge across now. It's a little scary, so, uh, just - just keep yourself steady, and try not to panic. We don't want you falling in to the lava, now do we?"

Despite his nerves, he found a chuckle escaping his lips.

Sam gave him a final warning, before he pulled a lever, and the rumbling of machinery starting up sounded in his ears. He felt his entire body jolt involuntarily when the stone platform he was standing on began _moving_ ; he stumbled slightly in order to regain his balance, and peered over edge, trying to comprehend what the actual hell was going on.

He couldn't come up with anything logical, but, then again, when was _anything_ on that server logical by any means?

He nearly fell over again when it came to an abrupt halt outside of the cell.

"I'm going to retract the bridge and drop the lava," Sam called out, voice echoing wildly. "Once I have done so, you're free to discuss with the prisoner openly."

He steps back and off of the bridge, and it's being pulled away half a second later. He can hear the bubbling and popping of the lava as it resumes its now-undisturbed flow, slowly descending until it formed the sort of barrier it had been earlier. 

He clenches his trembling hands into fists at his side, and wills himself to turn around.

This is what he came here for.

"Hello."

Dream's voice is cracked and dry from what he assumes to be dehydration, and his clothes are far too big on him. His stance remained the same; it was the position of power he had feared only weeks ago, but it now made the prisoner seem stupid, inconsequential, and powerless.

A background character in his own story.

A puppet master all tied up by his own strings.

He exhales slowly, "hello, Dream."

Dream's gaze is unwavering as he speaks, a hint of enthusiasm buried deep within his tone. "You've come to visit me."

"Well, I mean, obviously," he comments dryly. "I guess it might be a little surprising, though - I mean, we've barely talked at all."

Incredulous laughter tore from Dream's throat, _"what?"_

He blinks, startled, as the prisoner continues.

"It's not _surprising!_ The only thing I'm surprised about is the fact that you didn't come sooner!"

He sputters, choking out incoherent jumbles that might've formed words if you listened hard enough. 

"Well," he says slowly, "you should know why I'm here, then."

Dream smiles, and the grin is far too cheery to belong to someone who's been rotting away in prison for weeks now.

"Maybe I do," he agreed, sounding thoughtful. "I mean, we're best friends, so there's always a chance!"

Utterly confused, he shifted away from Dream's gaze, walking further into the cold cell. 

"What do you mean? We aren't _best friends,"_ he argued, "we haven't even spoken before, if I recall correctly!"

_"What?"_ Dream laughs again, the manic grin only growing. "I've probably spoken to you more than I have to anyone else on this server, Ranboo!"

Ranboo shakes his head vigorously, "no, I - I _know_ what you're doing. I'm aware of your little games now; you're trying to scare me."

Dream saunters forward, "why would I be trying to _scare you?"_

"We've hardly even interacted, if at all!"

"Why are you acting different?"

Ranboo would've expected Dream to be frowning, based on his tone, but the smile never faded. Somehow, that only led him to be more alarmed.

"What do you mean _'why am I acting different?'"_ he asked slowly, taking another hesitant step back. "I'm acting how I normally act."

Dream clasped his hands behind his back, tilting his head to the side ever-so-slightly; he appeared to be analyzing the boy in front of him. " _Ah,_ I see... well, I'm glad you came to visit me!"

"I - I don't understand why you're _glad,"_ Ranboo said pointedly, "I'm here to tell you everything you've done wrong - why would you be _happy_ about that?"

"It's just lovely to see you," Dream replied innocently, "I mean, you've been a good helping hand with everything!"

"No," he said at once, "no, you - you must - you have to know that I somehow heard your voice in my head. Otherwise you wouldn't be doing this; trying to make me think that _I_ did all those things when I know I didn't, and I won't be tricked by you this time."

Dream leans forward slightly. When he spoke, his voice was low and daunting; Ranboo could practically feel the words sinking into his skin the very moment they left his lips.

"But you did do those things."

He laughed; he couldn't tell if it was because of the nerves or not, but he laughed. "No, I didn't."

"You did. I mean, after Dream told you to do them, obviously, but you still did them."

_After Dream told you to do them._

No.

No, this was exactly what he didn't want to happen - 

"I got rid of the voice, I - I _know_ I got rid of the voice-”

“Well, you thought you got rid of the voice because Dream was put in prison,” he said, sounding thoughtful. “Of course, you haven’t been talking to him like you usually do, so it’s been harder for you to picture his voice.”

“No, I - I wouldn’t - I don’t -”

Ranboo cut himself off, his words fading into nothing as a new question crossed his mind.

“Why are you referring to yourself in the third person?” he asked, “have you already gone insane locked up in here?”

“I mean, I might’ve,” he shrugged, “there isn’t much to do in here. I have a clock. That’s about it.”

He side-stepped, allowing Ranboo to catch a glimpse of the opposite wall, and the worn-out brass clock that was hanging on it, with the lava reflecting in the dull metal. Dream cast a disgruntled look in its direction.

“I don’t like it very much,” he muttered, “I - I also have books!”

He gestured towards the chest tucked away in the corner of the room. His grin seemed to grow impossibly wider, “would you like to read what I’ve been writing?”

It seemed like Ranboo didn;t have much of a choice; Dream was already crouching down beside the chest and reaching into it, pulling out the book that was on top of the stack. He presented it to Ranboo in a way a proud child would present their artwork to their parents. He eyed Dream suspiciously, reluctantly taking it and flipping it around to look at the cover.

Messily scrawled out, the handwriting identical to his own, were the words _Do Not Read._

“I have more! I’ve been doing a lot of writing,” he said gleefully, “why limit yourself to just one?”

Hesitantly, Ranboo knelt down next to the chest and reached into it with trembling hands. His fingers brushed tentatively against the spines of the books - twenty-six of them, to be precise, before he selected one, repeating his previous actions and turning it around to look at the cover.

_Do Not Read._

He promptly allowed it to fall from his grasp and onto the rough obsidian floor below him, nudging it aside as he pulled another book out of the chest.

It was the exact same.

Exhaling shakily, he flipped it open to the first page.

The infamous smiley-face was staring back at him in the top left corner, as ominous as it always had been.

_No - no, surely not-_

He stumbled to his feet, taking out his own Memory Book and practically ripping it open. 

A helpless, horrid, disgruntled cry that was akin to a chirp of an enderman escaped him.

That face hadn’t been in there before. 

He _knew_ it hadn’t been in there.

“No, no - no nono, you - you must know - you must’ve - you - I - you couldn’t have -”

_“You need to face the truth!”_ Dream was nearly shouting; he was audibly fed up with all his stuttering. He had also resumed his original stance; head tilted slightly to the side, hands clasped behind him, his grin wide. His pupils were small but his eyes were wide. It was the most unnerving thing he’d ever seen, and it did nothing to calm the panic he felt rising in his chest.

“I am!” Ranboo bit back desperately, “I am facing the truth! The truth is that you - you’re a _terrible,_ terrible person, and you have brought pain to _so many people.”_

Dream chuckled, sounding both bored and amused at the same time. 

“No, no, the truth is that you _helped me!_ You helped Dream!”

“No, I-”

Dream continued, refusing to let him get a word in.

“ _I’m_ not even Dream!”

“No, no, you - you have to be him, I - I got rid of the -”

His words weren’t coming out properly. It felt like he was choking on them as they tried to escape.

“You just - you somehow know what I went through in there - in the panic room - you’re just - you’re doing this as a way to-”

A hysterical laugh tore from Dream’s - _was it Dream? -_ throat.

“I know what you went through because _I am you!”_

Ranboo tried to take a step back, to put as much space in between them as possible with the limited space the cell offered, but to no avail; his back made contact with the walls, preventing him from moving any further.

“No,no - no no no no no, you - you just - somehow you know what happened in there, and you - you -”

“Look, you need to accept it; _you’ve been helping Dream!”_

“No, I haven’t, I-”

“The only reason you haven’t been talking to him recently is because you can’t picture what he sounds like!” he explained, as though it were some common fact. “You used to talk to him every day! You used to _help him!”_

Ranboo shook his head vigorously, shoving himself impossibly further into the corner of the cell in a desperate attempt to put distance between the two of them.

“He would tell you what to do, and you would do it! You were like his little… _servant.”_

_“No,_ I couldn’t - I couldn’t have - you _know_ I couldn’t let myself do that. I couldn’t work for the person who has brought endless amounts of pain on _so many people._ ”

The Dream-like figure stayed silent for a moment. “But, you did. Many, _many_ times.”

“No - if it - if it’s so _prominent,_ if it’s as much as you’re saying it is; then how come I don’t remember _any of it.”_

“You _do._ You do remember it.”

“What do you mean _‘I do?’”_ Ranboo hugged the book to his chest to prevent it from receiving any more damage. “I don’t - I don’t remember _any of it.”_

“You do remember it, because _I’m you!”_

“No, you - you just-”

Ranboo found that he could only stare at him in horror; he physically could not break eye contact with the other. Even his thoughts seemed to stop dead in their tracks. Dream’s head tilted at more of an angle. His neck kept twisting, slowly, slowly, but his gaze remained unwavering. His grin remained impossibly wide. His hands were still clasped politely in front of him. He was still leaning forward.

But, his head was turned completely upside down.

His voice came out in a whisper.

“I’m not even real.”

And then he vanished.

The world seemed to start moving again, only, it was much faster than he was used to.

He could feel the room around him spinning. His thoughts were flying by at a million miles a minute. 

“What - no, no no - I - I got rid of him - I got rid of the voice - I _know_ I got - I -”

His vision was blurry; everything was blinking in and out of focus.

“I got - I got rid - no, no no no no no - this can’t be - there’s - there’s no way, there’s _no way-”_

It felt like the floor was pulled out from under his feet; his legs gave out beneath him and his knees made contact with the floor. He let out a cry of pain.

Unshed tears were burning his eyes.

“I got rid of the voice, I got rid of it - I did what I was supposed to - I got rid of it, I - _Sam!_ Sam, please, _please_ , help, I -”

The ceiling was falling in now.

“Sam, _please -_ I don’t - I don’t want to be here, I can’t - I can’t - you - you _promised -_ Sam, help, please, I - I can’t - he - he’s back-”

His vision went dark.

Ranboo felt like he’d been jolted away from the clutches of death.

The snow was merely cold against his skin at first.

Then it began to sting.

His entire body felt stiff when he lifted his head, craning his neck to look around. The stinging sensation traveled further, increasing more and more as he became more exposed to the snow around him. His heart was still racing; frankly, he had no clue how long he’d been out for, but it was evident that he hadn’t calmed down in the slightest.

His head was spinning as he tried to stand, only for his knees to give out. He fell back into the snow with a helpless, enderman-like chirp. Only now was he properly taking in his surroundings; he was a little ways away from Techno’s cabin. He noticed that his clothes were completely soaked through, too, dousing every inch of his skin in the cold. Some areas, the stinging was beginning to be replaced with a burn.

He couldn’t catch his breath. He kept trying to stand, but his body couldn’t seem to handle the stress of his own weight. Every time he rose, he only collapsed again. He was cold, but he was burning, too.

Eventually, he was too drowsy, and was in too much pain to move. Sobs began to wrack his body, mixing in with occasional enderman chirps as he sat there, feeling utterly helpless in the cold. Tears began to fall from his eyes, leaving stinging trails in their wake; it felt like acid, burning through his skin. 

_Why - why now, I didn’t - I don’t need to cry, please - please, I need - I need to get inside! I’m - I’m cold, and my body - it’s burning, I’m burning-_

“I’m burning!” he screamed. His voice was cracked and hoarse. It felt like he was repeatedly being kicked in the chest, constricting his breathing. His entire body was shaking from both exhaustion and panic. “Please, I - I didn’t ask for this - I didn’t _want this -_ I didn’t want to be here, I - it hurts, it all hurts - please-”

His voice gave out. His hands were stinging and covered in welts, as were his forearms now. His face was beginning to burn now, too, from the continuous tears that slipped down his cheeks.

_Please, just let this end, it hurts, please-_

His breaths were coming out short and uneven.

_Make it stop - please, kill me, I don’t care, just make it stop, I - it hurts, I hate it I hate it_ **_I hate it-_ **

His eyes shut.

There was something in the back of his mind that made him hope he wouldn’t wake up again - that didn’t expect him to wake up again. Perhaps that served as a reasonable explanation to the surprise, that almost outweighed his confusion, when his vision finally faded from black, to the warm, cozy appearance of… well, wherever he so happened to be; he wasn’t quite sure.

He clung to what he knew, which was very little in that moment. He tried to hold on to the world slowly fading back into focus around him as if everything would fade away again. He was yet to make sense of the previous few hours, and what brought him to feel like everything was slipping away from his grasps.

He resorted to laying there, because moving, even ever so slightly, seemed like far too much effort, and he simply didn’t feel like attempting to bother with it. He wasn’t sure if it was just his mind, or if his body felt heavy and slow, too - and that was the thing; even as he simply lounged there, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the position he’d been sleeping in, he felt so trapped, so lost inside of himself, and _so_ unreasonably scared - even bordering on horrified, perhaps. It was only worsened by the fact that he couldn’t even explain _why_ he felt that way, and it seemed to be taunting him, because _he couldn’t remember._

Ranboo just didn’t feel like he was in his own body anymore. There was a confusion, a separation, and he found that he felt much more at home with the darkness that came when he closed his eyes rather than when he was glancing around the forgein place. It was all so odd, and it wasn’t just the fact that he couldn’t see the end of the confusion; it was just that he’d found himself completely unable to recall the _reason_ for it. All he wanted in the world right now was to just let the entire world sink in around him, and to allow himself fall through the cloudiness in his head.

In the end, he did. The calmness lapped over him like a small, gentle wave, and he found himself slipping back into unconsciousness. 

The next time he woke up, he found that he had much more to come than originally expected; the walls of the place he was in - Techno’s cabin - came back to him with familiarity, and he came to recall his surroundings with ease. Before, where he had been felt like a distant shadow: a place he might’ve seen in a dream many years ago, or in the pages of a story book he’d read when he was a small child, but then it occurred to him that there had always been few hopeful dreams and even fewer hopeful stories in his childhood. That was reality for you; cold and bitter. He often struggled to find a proper kind of comfort with it.

Within minutes, he became aware of things with ease. The world piecing itself back together, slowly but surely, was rather calming. Taking a deep breath, he managed to shift so he was now laying on his side, facing the crackling fireplace.

Then his view of it was obscured when a figure crouched in front of him.

“Hey, kid.” Technoblade greeted him with tired eyes.

Ranboo merely blinked at him, unable to find his voice.

Techno didn’t seem to mind, though; he simply took hold of his hand that was laying limp at his side - his right hand, the inhuman one, the one that was withered and nearly scaly - and gave it a brief, tentative squeeze, but didn’t release it.

“Are - are you real?”

His voice was hoarse and cracked from lack of use, and his throat burned when he spoke. 

Techno smiled sadly at him. “I’m real,” he confirmed quietly; his tone was soft and gentle, which was highly unusual, but it was keeping Ranboo down to earth, so he appreciated it despite how alien it seemed. 

“Are you sure?”

Techno’s grip on his hand tightened again, “positive. You can feel my hand, right? What does it feel like?”

“It feels… warm,” he murmured.

“Mhm,” Techno confirmed with a nod, absentmindedly tracing circles on his knuckles with his thumb, “it’s warm because it’s _real_ \- you can feel it because it’s real. Hey, look at me, kid.”

Ranboo obliged.

“If you need any more proof than that - need some more reassurance or somethin’, you can squeeze the life out of me if you need to,” he said, chuckling lightly.

Ranboo did so, tightening his grip on the other’s hand until it was bound to cut off circulation at least a little bit, but Techno didn’t seem to care one bit, and, honestly, in the most lighthearted way possible, he didn’t either; if it meant he was able to ground himself, he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. 

Techno didn’t try to loosen his hold, or move away; he simply remained crouched down in front of the couch, uttering occasional words of comfort, and only took his hand away when Ranboo released his. 

“How’re you feelin’?” he asked.

“I... “ 

His words seemed to catch in his throat, as he tried to piece together exactly how he was feeling.

“...I don’t know, I’m sorry, I -”

Techno cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand, “don’t worry about it, alright? It’s perfectly okay to not know how you’re feelin’. I’ve been there before, _multiple_ times. It isn’t fun, but you’ll be able to work things out. I - I’m sorry, I’ve never been good with this whole… _emotions_ thing. Can I - er, can I get you anythin’?”

Ranboo thought for a moment. “Could I have something to drink - water, maybe?”

Techno gave him an incredulous look, “Endermen can drink water?”

He shrugged, “apparently, I guess. I never thought about it much. It might be my other half that cancels it out or something?”

“What - what exactly _is_ your other half?” 

“No clue, honestly.”

That got a snort out of Techno. “Well, I’ll grab you somethin’, just, uh, sit tight, okay?” 

Ranboo nodded; Techno pulled himself to his feet and trudged out of his line of sight. He sat up halfway, with his weight supported by the arm of the sofa he’d been laying on; his entire body ached with his movements. The blanket that had been pulled over him fell into a pile on his lap. Upon further inspection, he realized that it wasn’t actually a blanket, but rather Techno’s old cloak; the fur was slightly singed at the edges, likely due to the fact that it had been worn in multiple fights and explosions. The velvety material of the cloak itself was much thinner than the current ones Techno and Phil often wore, which served as actual protection from the cold rather than an accessory. 

He was pulled away from his thoughts when the sofa dipped down slightly next to him, and Techno reappeared at his side with a glass of water in hand.

Ranboo took it from his grasp, being careful to not spill a single drop of it. “Thank you.”

Techno hummed, “‘Course. Anythin’ else you need?”

He considered this for a moment. “What - what happened to me?”

“Uh. Anythin’ else?”

Ranboo nudged him with his knee, “I’m serious, Techno.”

Techno let out a slow, heavy sigh. “I know. I was afraid you’d ask - that’s all. The thing is, I - I don’t know, either, if I’m honest with you. I was sorta hopin’ _you_ could explain what went down.”

“I…”

_Went to visit Dream._

The words were at the tip of his tongue, fighting to slip out, but he swallowed them back. As far as he knew, Techno and Dream were archenemies; surely he’d be upset if he found out where he had gone, right?

“...I don’t remember,” he finished quietly, taking a sip of his water. Techno frowned.

“That’s fine, I suppose. How’re you feelin’, by the way?” he asked, repeating his statement from earlier.

Ranboo stared at him, “I already told you. I don’t know how to desc-”

Techno cut him off with a shake of his head, “no, no, I mean, how’re you feelin’ _physically?_ Like, are you sore or anything?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, I - my entire body just - just aches, or something, but that - that’s all,” he forced out, taking another sip. 

Techno eyed him, looking somewhat skeptical. “Are - are you sure it _‘just aches?’”_

“Yeah… why?”

“You - you were basically _burning_ when I found you out in the snow, Ranboo,” Techno said slowly. “Your skin - it was burning. Here, can - can I?”

Techno gestured towards one of his arms. When Ranboo nodded, he carefully took hold of his wrist and rolled back the sleeves of his shirt to reveal his forearm; it was completely wrapped up in bandages - which was probably why his movements felt so restricted, honestly. 

“Those are covering burns?” he asked quietly. 

Techno nodded. “They shouldn’t take too long to heal, if I’ve estimated correctly. The ones on your face, however... the scars on your face will take about a week minimum.”

In all honesty, Ranboo hadn’t even noticed that there were bandages on his face as well, just above his cheekbones. 

“You can stay in the cabin for tonight,” Techno continues, “well, not - not just tonight. You’re staying here until you’re properly healed. I couldn’t force you to live in that little shack when you’re in a state like this. Besides, I want Phil to take a look at you as well; see if he can find somethin’ wrong that I might’ve missed. Does that sound okay to you?”

Ranboo nodded, “as long as I’m not any sort of burden whilst I’m here.”

Techno shook his head firmly, “you won’t be. _But,_ you will have to take the couch.”

“Can you stay?”

He hadn’t even been aware that the words had left his mouth until Techno was eyeing him curiously 

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Down here,” he elaborated in a hushed, hesitant voice, “with me. I’m sorry, I - I just - I don’t wanna be alone.”

Slowly, Techno lowered himself back down onto the sofa, “yeah, I - I get that. I know that feelin’. I’ll stay.”

They lapsed back into silence. Ranboo finished his glass of water a few minutes after, and set it carefully down on the floor. He shifts once more, so he’s sitting normally now with one leg pulled to his chest. Techno watches through the corner of his eyes as Ranboo slowly drifts to sleep, still practically sitting up straight. The exhaustion from whatever he’d done that day had caught up with him, whether he liked it or not. When he starts to tip forward, Techno catches him, and shifts so they’re sitting next to each other with Ranboo’s head pillowed on his shoulder.

He sinks further into the sofa, bringing the teen with him. He grabs the old, discarded cloak and struggles for a moment, draping it around them as best as he can for extra warmth without disturbing Ranboo.

The voices are calling him soft.

He feels inclined to agree.

im gonna clarify this because some people are weird as shit: this is not a ship. any actions that may be perceived as romantic are purely platonic. ranboo is a minor u nimrods. dont be fuckin weird.

**Author's Note:**

> consider following my twitter at EARTHT0M4RS? i make bangers


End file.
